


Twelfth Spacenight on Starkiller Base

by SpaceJackalope



Category: Saturday Night Live, Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: (aka Twelfth Night/You've Got Mail genre), Crack, Emo Kylo Ren, Fluff, Identity Porn, M/M, crackfic, no sex but several tacky innuendos, puns
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-19
Updated: 2016-01-19
Packaged: 2018-05-14 23:47:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,412
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5763571
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SpaceJackalope/pseuds/SpaceJackalope
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Kylo Ren went on Undercover Boss, he was unprepared for the revelations he would face....</p>
            </blockquote>





	Twelfth Spacenight on Starkiller Base

**Author's Note:**

> This is inspired by Adam Driver's appearance on Saturday Night Live, the Emo Kylo Ren Twitter, and, y'know, canon.
> 
> Beta'd by the lovely @thaumatologist, who provided Saphira Bludoranj with her first name.

Kylo Ren, of the First Order and the Knights of Ren, stared at himself in the full-length plasma mirror inside his spacious, black-walled, black-ceilinged, black-floored closet, which was filled with predominantly black clothing. He scarcely recognized himself, despite having witnessed each step of his transformation. His black hair now hidden beneath a blond wig, a pair of unfamiliar glasses perched on his nose, and—most drastically—a uniform of cornflower blue and an orange as bright as the sun over…oh, dear, whatever was the name of that planet? The windy one, where he and Hux had stood on a hillside watching an execution of traitors. How odd that the name escaped him, for it was on that day he had noticed for the first time how the sun’s light brought glints of gold into Hux’s hair, and heard how crisp and confident Hux’s voice was. Despite their many differences in method, it was true—remained true, would always be true—that Hux _understood_ Kylo, really understood him, better than anyone else he’d ever known. He thought that, if Hux could be a smidgeon less stubborn and a tad more flexible at times, they would work in harmony more often than not. And wouldn’t that be a beautiful thing, for the well-being of the galaxy? And—no need to be coy now, far from any mind-reader of even tolerable ability—wouldn’t it be a beautiful thing for Kylo’s own heart? Hux was brilliant, handsome, and incredibly funny. And his taste! Exquisite. He always looked runway-ready in his uniform, all black and elegant and—not at all like this technician’s overalls and safety vest. Kylo started back to himself. Hux, even Hux, would be unlikely to recognize him like this. What a peculiar sensation, to be alienated from those one loved best. And not at all familiar, he told himself firmly. Not. At. All.  
“Kylo Ren, sir?” a voice came from behind him.

  
“Yes, Miss Bludoranj?” Saphira Bludoranj, a Coruscant-born Togruta, was the premier stylist in the First Order. She waved one hand towards his clothes, making her gold nail polish sparkle. “What do you think of the ensemble, sir? Are you comfortable? Need any adjustments?”

  
He considered. The serviceable material of the coveralls did not itch, precisely. It was a far cry from the Yavin 4 cotton, Naboo linen, and Tauntaun wool which he most favored in his wardrobe. No, those fabrics were soft, soft as he imagined Hux’s skin to be. But this material was just…cloth. Of some variety. It was coarse, and rough, and irritating in its unfamiliarity. This was what technicians wore? This was what came of being under the authority of the First Order? Again, he felt the call to the Light. “Miss Bludoranj, I require one thing,” he acceded, scowling.

  
She showed impressive mastery over herself, trembling only slightly as her hands tightened around her cup of organic fair-trade Kashyyyk coffee with Bantha butter. “Sir? Have I angered you?” Ahhh, this was a familiar sensation, an easy sensation: power. Freakin’ _finally._

  
He tilted his chin upwards imperiously. “I need something soft to wear under this…thing. Like, some Bantha cashmere or something.” Saphira Bludoranj perked up, shoulders relaxing, mind racing.

 

~***~

 

A few days later, and Kylo Ren, of the First Order and the Knights of Ren, had been firmly established in the minds of his crew as “”“Matt””” the “””radar technician.””” He had learned of just what it was that a radar technician did, and of the lack of respect sometimes afforded those in this position. And to think, just a short time earlier, he too would have assumed that nobody with true vision or sensitivity would be caught dead in coveralls and a—shudder—neon safety vest.

  
But now he had learned, and could put that knowledge to maximizing the efficiency and team morale of the First Order, thereby furthering the progression of the galaxy towards its true potential. Just think, he realized with a shiver, of what he could do now he knew what a calcinatory looked like! And knew the incomparable pleasure of a muffin break! (He would have to adopt that into his own routine. Just take a few minutes out of a long afternoon to slip his mask off and have a little nom.) The practice of presenting cards to suffering members of the legion would also have to be continued! _It’s so important,_ he mused, _that each and every member of the First Order understand and feel how vital they are to the cause. Really, all the officers and Stormtroopers and knights are just one big family united in the quest for glory and fulfillment. We’re lucky. Some people’s families suck. I’m glad I’m not one of them!!!!!_

  
Out of all his encounters thus far, the most special—bewildering—intoxicating—thought-provoking—happifying—skin-tingling—pulse-racing conversations were those he had with Hux. To speak with him, not as Kylo Ren, of the First Order and the Knights of Ren, but as Matt the radar technician, was…well, he was sure he’d be able to think of more adjectives if his senses were not so filled with affection and lust.

  
The first time they’d talked was shortly after that weak, foolish Stormtrooper had kicked his wrench out of Kylo’s reach. He had been stretching into a ventilation shaft to retrieve it (the stupid hallway was so busy, he couldn’t openly use the Force without blowing his cover, and then what of his hard work?), and felt himself suddenly slipping forward. But then! A pair of hands had grabbed his thigh and tugged him out of his precarious position. As he regained control and slipped out into the hallway, he tossed his tousled blond head, pushed his glasses up his nose, and stared—straight into the beautiful eyes of General Hux. Were they green? Or brown? He pondered. Moss-like. That would work.

  
“Hey,” he said bashfully (and, oh! What a strange thrill to let the wave of shy admiration he so often felt around his best general come to the surface!) “You’re General Hux, aren’t you?” Hux’s cheekbones caught the light sharply, nobly. “…Sir?” He felt himself blush. How unbecoming of his position! Was this damn kawaii expression yet another way in which his Light-corrupted soul betrayed him?

  
Yet Hux, pure and austere as a marble statue, merely nodded graciously—and _asked Kylo’s name!_ Kylo almost lost his mastery of his guise then and there, but no: “Matt. The radar technician. Sir.”

  
In reply to which Hux said: “It’s a pleasure to meet you. I will not interfere with your work any further. Please do…wrench the necessary bolts.” So Kylo promised that he would, and thrilled in the feeling of strength and warmth that came from having been kindly acknowledged by his _inamorto_. Perhaps, perhaps this sentiment could be wholesome and right, a fire driving him still forward in his great work. And perhaps, if only Hux felt the same—then they could do it together. More so than they already did. Holding hands in the best of Saphira Bludoranj’s Fall/Winter 30 AFO collection. Watching the stars die for them together. Oh, Hux. Kylo would gladly wrench his bolts anytime.

 

~***~

  
Their next conversation came after he had attempted to bequeath his new friends with a glimpse of the power of the dark side, as exemplified by his lightsaber. General Hux had heard of the incident, and come to investigate.

  
“Ah,” he said, cool as a Hoth breeze. “Radar technician Matt.”

  
_He remembers me!_ Kylo could hardly believe it. _Does he always remember those in our ranks? He is so conscientious, and perspicacious, and has such a strong memory. What. A. Hunk. That is, I could never find a more accomplished and virtuous man in the whole galaxy._

  
“Matt, I understand someone gained possession of Kylo Ren’s lightsaber, and brought it to this common room. Can you provide me with any additional insights into the situation?”

  
His mouth fell open. His pulse raced. “General Hux, sir! It was me, sir.” Hux’s eyebrow—the left one—rose to an arch as crisp as the bridge over the Swiphdaza Kore Sing River on Mirial. “I found it.”

  
“Where, pray tell?” His voice pierced Kylo’s heart like a blaster bolt.

  
“In the. Trash compacter. Sir. On Deck 4. I was. Doing maintenance. The walls were stuck. And I found it.”

  
Hux’s eyes swept slowly over Kylo from the soles of his hideous work boots to the roots of his wig. “You,” he purred softly, “are an upstanding and reliable worker. Anyone can see that. I do not know why Kylo Ren’s lightsaber was there, but I have confidence that you will tell me, should you learn more.” Kylo nodded. Too enthusiastically? Not enough? How his emotions heightened his senses! “Now, why, exactly, did it end up in the wall? And how with such…penetration?”

  
Oh. That. “I tossed it to my buddy, Sean, and accidentally turned it on. So he got out of the way and it hit the wall.” Hux surveyed the wall, like this was CSI: Starkiller Base, or something. Hux would look amazing in a deerstalker. Kylo would have to drop a hint to Miss Bludoranj.

  
“Ah, yes,” he murmured in a gorgeous tone. “I see how that happened. You must have a wonderfully strong pitching arm, Matt.” Oh, the return of the scarlet cheeks!

  
“Thank you so much, sir. I’m alright, sir.”

  
“You’re far too modest, my dear Matt.”

  
_His dear Matt? But what about me? Other me?_ “Sir, may I ask an impertinent question?” Was it just him, or did Hux look…hopeful? Excited?

  
“I cannot imagine an unwelcome question from you, Matt.”

  
“What…what do you think of Kylo Ren, sir? It’s just that, you know, I admire him hugely, but from such a distance, and I wondered…”

  
Hux stared into space, soft lips parted. “Kylo Ren is stubborn, clever, driven, electrifying, inspiring, and breathtaking. I often think, if he could just be a little more compromising and a little less obstinate—why, we’d be like a smoothly-lubricated piece of engineering.”

  
Kylo’s heart raced. How wonderful! How extraordinary! Could it really be? “I hope, if I may say, sir, that such a day may not be long in coming.”

  
Hux hummed. “That would surprise me very much, to my great dismay.”

  
“Oh, don’t give up hope, sir. I know a few things about engineering, and so on. Being a radar technician. As I am.”

  
“Oh, I’m sure you’re well-versed in lubricant, Matt.” Hux smiled—such a smile! “Now, let us both be about our business.”

  
As Kylo exited the common room soon after, he was pounced upon by Sean and Hank. “Matt!?!?! Did he really just say what I think he said?!?!?”

  
“I KNOW. HE DID. HE LIKES KYLO REN BACK—or he would, if Kylo Ren liked him, I don’t know, that’s what I heard, what do you guys think, I bet it’s true, and they’d be a great couple, so handsome and stylish and visionary.”

  
“What? No, no,” Hank protested. “I mean about your throwing arm. You’re so scrawny, I was sure that kind of depth was pure luck.” Kylo’s rage flared up. Him, scrawny? Did they think that of Kylo Ren? This could not be tolerated. He bided his time, and then tried to convince them. But to no avail. Their faith was weak, his flame of righteousness strong, and his cover blown.

 

~***~

  
  
The exploit had taken a great deal out of him. He returned to his chambers, and rested for a day before changing back into a familiar, evocative, all-black ensemble, and returning to his duties. But what to do about Hux? A few days passed, and he found the radar technician uniform crumpled under his bed. He resolved to return it to Saphira Bludoranj, whom he found in consultation with Captain Phasma about an elegant black lace bra-and-boy-short combination which wouldn’t chafe under her armor. They were having a fine time, and his yearning to accomplish his remaining task was magnified.

  
He found himself on a balcony overlooking the sunset over the mountain on the south side of Starkiller Base. “Captain Hux,” he called to the slender redhead.

  
“Ah, Kylo Ren. What brings you here this evening?”

  
“I, uh, wanted to talk about something.”

  
“As did I.”

  
_Really? Oh, Grandfather! What if we’re thinking the SAME THING? When we’re old, we’ll probably finish each other’s sentences and—._

“Were you the one who put your lightsaber in the trash compacter on Deck 4? It’s only that it caused a spot of bother while you were gone, and I cannot quite work out what happened.”

“Bother? Meaning, with that radar technician—?”

“Matt. And, what’s more, I’ve not been able to find for a couple of days. Shame, I _quite_ liked him.”

“… _Did_ you?” How ridiculous, feeling jealousy over one’s own self!

“Yes. He was very…” He caught himself. “Never mind.”

Kylo bit his lip under his mask, feeling himself blush again. “I _can_ read minds, you know.”

Hux made a small noise in the back of his throat. “He had a very appealing blush, if you must know.”

“I didn’t put my lightsaber in the trash compacter.”

“Then I’m completely baffled,” Hux confessed, his brow furrowing adorably.

“It was never there.”

“…Oh. Then Matt…”

Kylo couldn’t bear it any longer. “Do you really think I’m electrifying?”

Hux shifted sharply. Everything about him was sharp, and Kylo adored it. “You heard about that, did you?”

Kylo slowly slipped his mask off, and nodded. “Yes. And I really think that, if we both try, the day when we can cooperate will not be long in coming.”

Hux peered into Kylo’s face. “Matt was you? You’re Matt? But…”

Kylo was blushing again, or still. He didn’t really care. “Yeah, yeah I am. Is that ok?” Hux nodded intently, and trailed his fingers along Kylo’s cheek. He seemed quite beyond speech. “Hux? I…I’d like to rule the galaxy with your hand in mine. How does that strike you?”

And Hux smiled. “That sounds _most_ agreeable. And entirely ideal. And _oh_. Kylo? We should _definitely_ be kissing right now.”

Kylo laughed. “Oh, really?”

Hux rolled his eyes. “It’s sunset, we’re in love, the getting-together story’s almost over—”

Kylo tilted Hux’s chin closer. “Are we? In love? I mean, I know I am, but you—mmmph. Mmmm.”

And neither of them said anything at all for quite a while after that.

**Author's Note:**

> Some of the places are really in Star Wars canon, but there are also...puns. 
> 
> The bit about Hux's eye color is because I googled Domhnall Gleeson's stats, and found two different answers.
> 
> You can find me on Tumblr as cartograffiti, where I am much like this fic: very silly, incredibly tasteful, and also queer. Come chat!


End file.
